


Neither Here Nor There

by ceria



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't set out to have an affair, much less a long-term, devoted one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd seen a prompt for Clint/Coulson sometime ago at the kink meme where Phil was married and still involved with Clint. They asked for it from Clint's pov and I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of Phil cheating. So I wrote this from Phil's pov. I feel like I should say I'm sorry for even posting this; note the warnings, it doesn't have a happy ending.

In the past fifteen years, Phil had learned to shed his job when he removed the suit. The backroom was someplace she never went. He could unlock the closet that doubled as a weapons locker and change there, hanging up the suit he'd worn all day on the used side and grab shorts or sweats and a t-shirt from the drawer, padding naked from there (never forgetting to lock the door and his guns up – had to keep the children safe) and heading straight into the shower in the adjoining bathroom. Washing away the work day and only leaving behind Phil Coulson: husband and father.

Grace never minded; she didn't like the suits anyway. She preferred her husband looking less like an office drone and more like the little league coach he used to be when Joey was little. That was before Phil went to work for SHIELD and all of his free time whittled away to nothing. He'd offered to quit, to find a nine-to-five job that left weekends mostly open for his family but she hadn't agreed with him.

Changing out of the suit nowadays meant more than leaving behind work. It meant returning to the life he shared with Grace post children. This past month they'd been renovating Maddie's old bedroom into a guest room. She'd picked out the wallpaper and he'd torn out all of the white trim to replace it with cherry-colored wood.

"What do you want for dinner?" she asked, tapping his nose with mauve paint. Laughing he shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you take the steaks out of the freezer this morning?"

"Of course," she said. It was Wednesday, after all.

"I'll turn on the grill in a little bit. You're okay with waiting until I get this trim up?"

"No hurry," she said, sliding closer to him. Phil propped the long piece of wood up in the corner and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her briefly. She was still beautiful after all this time. The years had softened her curves, lightened her hair, but the wrinkles around her eyes – like his – were testament to years well lived.

Sometimes he felt bad for the amount of time he spent away from home and the life she'd built for them here but he _loved_ coming home. He'd considered letting her go once Maddie left for college but Phil couldn't do it. He couldn't walk away and leave Grace to fend for herself. He couldn't ruin the picture his family had built of him with any other version of truth.

She let him work what he needed and knew enough about his job to know that one day she'd end up with a military escort showing up on their porch to gently tell her that Phil wouldn't ever come home again. Joe and Maddie would be here for her and Phil knew that. She'd never be alone. He'd already made Joe promise to keep her close to his family. Thank God that Joe's wife loved Grace.

And Grace was strong; she had her faith even if Phil didn't share it. He'd taught her all he knew about finances and investments and he'd spent a lot of money over the years making sure Grace would never need anything when he died.

To Grace, Phil was exactly what she saw; a devoted, loving husband with workaholic tendencies and a government job he never spoke about. And to him, Grace was everything that Phil ever defended. Every time he came home, he felt blessed to have her and the children.

The night ended like most of their nights; the two of them curled around each other, sometimes making love gently because he was always tired after work and they weren't so young anymore. He loved their nights though; talking about her day and what little details Phil could mention about work. She knew about Maria and Nick, and how much Phil disliked a man he worked with named Tony. She knew about Phil's love of Captain America and that he was the reason Phil went into the military and then onto the government. She'd bought him the toys and memorabilia he'd collected over the years, including most of the trading cards.

Phil wouldn't let her buy him anything else Avenger-related though. He couldn't bring that into their home.

.

He hadn't set out to have an affair, much less a long-term, devoted one. No one prior to Barton had ever made Phil desire to stray. He'd never felt as though something was missing - that he could only find it outside of Grace. He loved his wife and family. But they would never know about his work; at home he was husband and father and provider. He cooked dinner and paid the bills and had coached little league once. 

Clint was the second person Phil couldn't walk away from. Clint had told him, many times, that all Phil had to do was say the word and it would be over. That the day Phil needed to walk away, Clint would let him, no arguments, no shouting match, no threating to tell Grace. 

Sometimes Phil thought about the words during the in-between times. Not when he was at home, and never when he was with Barton. But he'd whispered them when alone – usually driving, sounding them out, practicing them. The first year he'd said them every time he'd driven home. He'd needed to know he could walk away from Clint. Maybe it had been a way to separate the man he was with Clint and the man he was with Grace. 

Clint made it too easy to stay.

They were dangerous together and once Natasha joined them, Phil felt they were unstoppable. He loved them in some ways – in different ways. But he'd never wanted to have sex with Natasha. He never wanted to hold her close after a mission and confirm she still lived. He never wanted to kiss her senseless or see her collapse onto the bed after sex, breathless and sated, drenched with sweat and come. 

If she was hurt, Phil would follow her to medical and confirm she wasn't in mortal danger; because, like Barton, Natasha had a way of downplaying any wound as nothing but a scratch. 

Only Clint did terrible things to Phil's emotions. They'd started as friends and Phil hoped they would always remain that. He _trusted_ Clint. They teased and joked and occasionally played pranks and things had continued that way, platonically, for two years. Until Pleven -- until Clint had to be left behind. Phil had been furious as Natasha dragged him away, swearing up and down that Clint could free himself and that she'd promised Barton she would get Phil to safety. 

Two days later, only slightly broken, Clint had arrived at their safe house. Phil had kicked Natasha out with intentions of lecturing Clint, and had ended up getting fucked instead. Neither of them rushed to end it, or rushed to separate after. They had remained tangled together, Phil gently kissing Clint.

"I'm sorry" wasn't something either of them ever said. Clint had told him, for the first time, three days later that he would walk away whenever Phil needed him to. At the time, Phil's home life had been awkward and painful. He and Grace had a good marriage, but never a perfect one. Only over time had they learned to be at ease with each other. Sometimes, Phil credited that to Clint; who'd told him about his younger years and what kind of family life he'd had. He'd made a point to be a better husband after that. Phil didn't think it was fueled by guilt, but maybe it was.

They only apologized to each other once; a year later. Phil had stopped calling it fucking a month into their relationship and admitted to himself that he was in an affair. He could never give Clint everything he wanted and had told him that, exactly one year after they first fell into bed together.

Clint had told him he was sorry that he could never be more than what he was now. 

"Don't you want more?"

"I want you," Clint whispered. "I want this and I'm… not designed for more, Phil. I'm too screwed up, too broken. If you left her for me, I would spend all my time assuming you would leave me too. I would fuck this up, Phil. I don't want to be that person."

"What do you get from this?"

"I get what I need and what I want," Clint said. "I get your suits and SHIELD's fear, and our snark, and our amazing ability to kick ass. I get respect. I don't want domestic. I don't want to be known as the reason you left your wife."

"We can hardly ever be together," Phil said. "We spend most of our time here. We don't have enough sex."

"If I only wanted sex, I'd hit a bar."

Neither ever said the word love but they both knew the truth. 

.

Phil had three letters in his file for distribution in case of death; one for Grace and two for Clint. 

The first told her that he loved her and died a content man. That he loved her and their children and would never, ever do anything different in their youth. That he most likely died in a work-related accident and that he didn't regret ninety-five percent of the decisions made there (it could never be one hundred percent unless he undid the last six years of Clint). He reminded her to be proud of their country and to continue to believe in family, God and patriotism. He signed it as he did every note and card he'd ever gave her. All my love, forever. Phil.

Clint would be given two options. Inside the large envelope were two smaller envelopes. One was labeled 'what you are to me' and the second 'what I wish I could have been to you.' Phil left directions for Clint to read one and destroy the other.

In the first, Phil told him that he never regretted what the two of them had. That he wished he could have been more and that he hoped Clint had enough of Phil to not regret their decisions over the last six years. That Clint meant the world to Phil and that he would miss him forever. It had jokes and teasing and phrases designed to make Clint laugh. To make Clint know, beyond a doubt, that Phil had been privileged to know him personally and intimately.

The second letter spilled out Phil's heart. It was the only time that Phil ever allowed himself to say (well, write) the words 'I love you, Clint' and 'I wish I could have given you the world.' That he should have left Grace years ago in order to prove to Clint that he was worth everything. That Phil had been a coward who had never loved him enough. That Clint had given Phil more than he deserved. He signed that one, 'You've had my heart for six years, know that you'll hold it forever. Phil'

.

The weeks before Phil died were hell. It was the only time Grace had seen him cry and he couldn't even tell her why. He couldn't explain that the only person he loved, besides for her, was under the influence of an alien monster and most likely would die that way. That everything good in Clint was being unmade daily in order for Loki to take over the world. 

He told her work was getting bad and things were unstable and that he wanted her to leave New York for Joe's home until things were safe again. He didn't think Clint would find the time to have personal missions, but he needed Grace away – just in case. 

He didn't make love to her before she left. He couldn't. 

Taking the Phase Two gun and heading toward Loki didn't make Phil afraid. Loki had Clint, who had attacked SHIELD and was either dead or would die soon. All he could think was that this was something Phil could give to Clint. That if Clint had to die, then Phil would go as well. They couldn't have forever in life but maybe they could have eternity together in death.

.

He never considered that Clint might live.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint attended the funeral with one additional injury; a black eye. Fury hasn't spoken to him in three days and Clint wasn't surprised by that. Phil had always been so careful in life. If Clint had _only_ been his best friend, there would have been other letters as well. 

He wasn't sure if it was an oversight or a declaration. 

The sealed envelope remained hidden in his SHIELD barrack for now. He had no plans to open it until after the funeral. Which he wouldn't have attended but Fury made it mandatory when Clint had tried to skip. The threat was clear: _if you want to stay employed, you'll go_.

Clint attended.

It was easier than expected. He knew what Grace, Maddie and Joe looked like; had seen pictures of them over the years whenever anyone requested to see Phil's family. The man Joe spoke about during the eulogy wasn't the man Clint knew in many ways. The songs sung at the funeral, the ones that Grace said her husband selected, weren't the songs that Clint also knew Phil loved. Whatever jealousy he had for them had been accepted and dealt with. As far as the world knew, Clint meant nothing more to Phil than Natasha meant to him. He stared at the urn and wished he could cry but no tears came.

The only exception Clint allowed himself was greeting the family afterwards. Grace, he could talk to. The sympathy he expressed to her was heartfelt and too real. He wasn't sure what he said but she had smiled at him and pulled him into a long hug. It left him uncomfortable.

But Joe? With his brown hair, wide forehead, and bright blue eyes? Clint couldn't even look at him.

Nat found him on the roof that evening, settling beside him to watch the city below. Within the hour, Tony, Steve and Bruce joined them in silence -- for a short time. Tony spoke first, which wasn't a surprise. They exchanged stories and tales and passed a bottle of crown - Phil never could stomach vodka. 

That was the memorial Clint needed. He only wished Fury could have been on the roof with them as well.

No one mentioned Clint's black eye - though Nat had told him she would have appreciated being invited to the bar fight he must have found. Clint let her think that.

Before they separated for the night, Natasha opened a small bag of gray dust and Steve looked appalled. "Did you…"

"With permission," Natasha said, letting each of them take a little of the ash to distribute amid the winds of New York. She gave the bag and the remainder to Clint.

He didn't think she knew the truth and he'd gone to pains over the years to never indicate it. "You were his best friend," Natasha said, explaining it away with a sharp head tilt. "It seemed appropriate."

"Thank you," Clint whispered and spread some of the ash, carefully resealing the bag and tucking the rest of it into his pocket.

 

He read both letters - of course he did. If Phil hadn't meant for him to read them both, he wouldn't have written two. Clint kept the first, depositing it into his safety deposit box along with the ash. He knew what he was to Phil - had always known.

 

The second letter Clint balled up in a fit of rage and threw it at the wall. Then picked it up, straightened it out, and did it again. Target practice wasn't going to be enough for that one. He kept it for two days; balling it up, covering it with rubber bands to bounce it off the walls, off the floor, or off other Agents. He, Rogers, Sitwell and Nat played an impromptu game of office baseball with it.

The fourth day, Clint smoothed it out, read it one more time, and crying, finally, burned it on top of Phil's empty desk. Then requested a week's leave and got the hell out of town; taking a vacation - a trip of memories - that covered six countries. 

He returned to SHIELD and the Avengers and got on with his life. His only concession? Clint never slept with a married man or woman again. He was a spy, damn it, or had been before Loki; he knew when people were lying to him. Not that he needed sex very often - it was easier to find other releases through working out or target practice or sparring. Hell, he never had sex with the same person twice after that. He became a better Agent, a better teammate, and a better friend. He earned Fury's trust back (but never his friendship. Not that Clint deserved it).

Clint lived, and held onto the memory of love the only way he knew how.


End file.
